Brother My Brother
by Sounddrive
Summary: AU TFA: The War has gone into the Jet Twins' time. They're separated during a battle when they're young. Both join the war later . . . on different sides. Brief mentions and showing of characters from TFP and TF:RB.
1. Prologue

That battle alone took about five hundred lives on both sides. That was a thousand sparks that have reentered the Well of All Sparks; a thousand mechs or femmes that will never see the faces of their loved ones ever again.

Wheeljack sighed as he walked past the devastation, barely able to look at the bodies of the deceased, Autobot _or _Decepticon. Energon, the bright hue of pink, splattered and pooled all across the ground. Around the Autobot scientist were the once proud buildings of the Neutral Territory, decimated to nothing. The only few left standing were only about half of the mech's height. The sky above him was coated with a gray haze, hiding the Decepticon-red like sky.

Wheeljack paused in his steps as a ping on his comm. alerted him that someone was contacting him.

"Yes, Ultra Magnus, sir?" Wheeljack answered curtly. He averted his optics as he noticed a Decepticon front-liner's chassis, grotesquely mangled and twisted.

"-Wheeljack,-" the leader of the Autobots said. "-According to our scanners, there is a spark signal just seven hundred mechrnometers from your position." The scientist's spark leaped in its casing; it may have not been much but at least one spark could be saved from this devastation.

_'And yet, be joining the War as soon as he or she reaches the final youngling stage,' _he thought bitterly.

The Great War had been going on for more than two million years. Primus and the Thirteen alone could fathom how or even _when _the energon shed would end.

Wheeljack pushed those dark thoughts to the back of his processor; he had to get to the single spark in the middle of all this. He shifted into his vehicle mode and sped past the macabre that was to the front, left, and right of him.

Once Wheeljack neared the seven hundred mechronometer mark, he shifted back into his bi-pedal mode. His helm wings flashed a somber blue as he saw what was left of a small hut-like domicile right in front of him. All but one of the walls were blasted to pieces, scattered to the winds.

"By Primus . . ." Wheeljack murmured somberly as he took a step forward. The engineer immediately stopped as he heard a sound. A sound that he'd thought he'd never hear again.

The sound of a sparkling's cry.

Wheeljack ran to the sound, hoping to be able to save that fragile life.

* * *

"I really hope he makes it, the poor thing," Blades murmured as he watched through the glass. The youngest member of Rescue Force Sigma 17, a copter-bot, pressed his face very close to the glass.

"Blades." The orange and white mech felt his leader's heavy servo upon his shoulder. The copter looked up at Heatwave and then sighed.

"Sue me and my Carrier coding; Wheeljack was lucky to find the little guy," Blades ex-vented loudly. Seeing Heatwave's indifferent expression, the younger mech exclaimed, "I know, I'm overreacting about the whole thing. The little blue guy is gonna make it-but think about it! So many 'bots died in that battle! A record high!"

Heatwave nodded in understanding. He too gazed through the glass as the femme medic, Red Alert, tended to the burns the little blue sparkling endured.

The little one was very tiny, about as big as Blade's forearm. He couldn't be more than a few orbital cycles old. His optics were a vibrant blue, yet lonely and frightened of his new surroundings. In the medic's arms, the sparkling squirmed endlessly.

Wheeljack dangerously hovered by the femme medic. Her patience wore thinner and thinner by the nano-click. As he ventured too close to Red Alert _again, _the femme whipped around to yell something incomprehensible at the engineer.

"Here comes the-" Heatwave said and the Rescue Bots winced as the wrench-though not as infamous as Ratchet's own-collided into Wheeljack's helm, and they can hear the echo from the room.

_THUD._

Blades got to the tip of his pedes to see the comatose engineer on the floor. Heatwave guffawed as he heard the little blue sparkling babble happily in Red Alert's arms. It was as if the little one almost laughed at Wheeljack's predicament.

"Well, at least he has some sense of humor," Heatwave chuckled quietly. Blades rolled his optics, but had a small smile as he gazed at the happily babbling sparkling on the other side of the glass.

* * *

_Outside a remote Decepticon depot . . ._

The building was the tallest and largest within the area. Smack in the middle of a Decepticon camp, the facility was gun-metal gray. It contrasted with the darker colors of the surrounding Decepticons and their shabby quarters.

The depot was busy with activity this cycle. Decepticons with a variety of reasons for being at the depot were fighting over supplies, ammunition, and fuel.

"Frag you! Hand it over!"

"Not in your life-cycle!"

"Hand it over!"

"Over my cold and offline chassis!"

"Done."

**_BANG!_**

A mech fell over, a gaping hole left in his helm. Two other mechs started to raid his belongings. One had an energon pistol in his servo; from the muzzle, smoke trickled out of it.

"Get the grenades and energon bits," the pistol-wilder rumbled.

Several mechrnometers away, a one-optic mech quickly left the scene. The blue and silver mech held a bundle in under his arm as his supplies were magnetized to his back-strut. And for good reason too.

A prime example of why just occurred right in front of him.

_'Scrap' _the orange-faced mech thought as he quickly pushed past several mechs. He felt a familiar cold feeling of paranoia as he noticed optics that followed him. The burly mech began to jog through the camp.

_'I gotta get outta here'._ He hustled away to his tiny claim at the edge of the camp through the in the mass of mechs.

"Hey Breakdown! What's the rush?!" a nearby comrade questioned the mech with the bundle.

Breakdown ignored the mech as he would usually do on a day-to-day basis. But today, the sole survivor of the Stunticons' demise had another reason he really wanted to be alone.

The bundle tucked under his left arm shifted slightly. Soon after, a small whimper reached Breakdown's audio receptors. The big bruiser swore under his breath as he quickly typed in his pass-code. In the meantime, Breakdown looked left and right frantically. He hoped and prayed that Primus would be forgiving right then.

As the entrance to his quarters slid open, the sound of the distressed whines got louder. As if on cue, the entrance to his quarters sealed once again and Breakdown was glad his room was sound-proof.

"Lights at seventy-five percent," the mech said aloud. The room's lights automatically adjusted to his request. Breakdown de-magnetized his supplies from his back and carefully set it down to the ground.

Breakdown winced as a spark-jerking cry emitted from the bundle in his arm. He carefully removed it from his original position. His left arm cradled the squirming thing as his right gently lifted the flap that covered what was inside the blanket.

"Primus forgive me," Breakdown whispered as he gazed at the sparkling in his arms.

A genuine sparkling. Not a Cybertronian that came out of the Well of All Sparks fully grown. A little, baby Cybertronian that wriggled in his hold.

The mech couldn't help it, but he stared at the wide, innocent amber optics the bitlet possessed. The little one scrunched up his face-plates and flailed his arms. He was obviously not happy in his current predicament, and the sparkling let out another sob. Lubricant began to cascade down his optics.

_'Ah scrap . . . what am I going to do?' _Breakdown wondered to himself. He didn't need to worry apparently, for the little bitlet finally gazed up at him. The sparkling let out an amused warble.

"Huh, that's a first," Breakdown murmured quietly. The little one let out a tiny coo, a complete one-eighty of how he was just seconds ago.

"I can still crush you under my foot you know . . ." Breakdown smirked. He carefully ran his digit over the orange and crème protoform's helm. The little one let out a soft chirp, almost sounding like a content sigh. To the Stunticon's surprise, the little bitlet reached up with his tiny servos and gripped Breakdown's large finger.

_'What the frag am I doing?!' _Breakdown berated himself mentally. He pulled his digit away from the sparkling's grip.

That bewildered the little sparkling in his arms. Why didn't the big mech want to play with him anymore? Was it something he did?

Breakdown saw the confused expression the sparkling had and sighed. Frankly, the 'Con didn't know _what_ was going through his processor when he rescued the sparkling from the debris. The only standing structure within range to the tiny thing was the _wall _of a building, nearly a mile away.

And the cold and offline chassis next to the orange sparkling was most likely his Carrier. The blue Decepticon could see the pink drag marks of energon behind the body of the femme. The Carrier had valiantly dragged herself away from the chaos and destruction of her home to protect her offspring. Breakdown hadn't seen that kind of dedication in eons.

A knock on the doors behind him drew Breakdown from his thoughts. He remembered what he had in his arms right then, and tensed.

If he wasn't going to get scrapped for saving a Neutral bornling, it was the sparkling that was going to get crushed, literally. As his spark skipped a beat, Breakdown hushed the little sparkling as the little one started to fuss.

"Please, for the sake of your life and mine," Breakdown pleaded with the sparkling. The ex-Stunticon stared directly into those amber optics. "Stay quiet and close your optics."

He gently folded the little blanket over the bitlet's optics and magnetized his supplies to his back. Breakdown tucked the little one under his right arm. The mech swallowed nervously as he turned and kept his expression neutral as he transformed his left servo into his sledgehammer. One way or another, Breakdown had to get out of here.

The Decepticon camp was no place for a sparkling.

* * *

**A/N: DUN-DUN-DUN! Hey every body! I know this came out sooner than expected, but I wanted to publish this instead of it collecting dust. Actually, it's a birthday present for myself and to you guys! :D**

**Thanks for coming to read my AU of TFA! Please read and review or leave a prediction to what'll happen to the little sparklings; the feedback really helps!**


	2. Different Upbringings

The reopening of the depot was of great joy to everyone. The small population of Neutrals, only twenty or so, flocked to the depot in order to get supplies that would last them another stellar cycle. Energon and other rations flew off the shelves, little toys for the numerous younglings and few sparklings were gone in an instant, and the elder Cybertronians of course, got neighborly.

A particular mech had stopped in front of a tall shelf that hadn't been touched yet. The mech was short compared to a high percentage of the mechs in the small colony. The main feature that separated him from everyone else was his right optic patch. Breakdown stood in front of the shelf full of data-pads. Most were aimed at younglings and sparklings; tales of the Thirteen and other great leaders of Cybertron's past.

As Breakdown reached to grab one of them, he realized a little someone wasn't in his usual spot on his right. The Stunticon looked around, seeing that the little sparkling, about the age equivalent to humans of the age of four, wasn't within viz-scanner range.

"Jetfire!" Breakdown shouted. His call echoed off the walls of the sound of quick little pedes raced his way. Breakdown swerved out of the way just as a familiar orange and white sparkling zipped by him. "You missed," the bruiser joked as Jetfire skidded to a halt.

For one his age, Jetfire was rather tall and skinny. His height reached up to a bit past Breakdown's knees, though that didn't seem to faze the young one at all. The little sparkling had been a fast runner, which proved helpful whenever they 'moved'.

"Papa! Is sorry being wandered away," the little one said. Jetfire sported a cute smile, one that usually prevented Breakdown from being mad at the bitlet.

"It's ok." The one opticed mech tickled Jetfire's chin, which made the sparkling giggle. The smaller of the two playfully swatted away the large hand.

"Hey Breakdown, I have something for 'Fire!" shouted one of their neighbors. Breakdown looked up and noticed that the only femme in the colony waved around a small container of energon goodies. The mech looked down to see his adopted sparkling practically drool at the sight. The Stunticon smiled.

"Go ahead kid." Of course, before Breakdown even said, 'go', Jetfire was off like a shot.

O*O*O

"Papa . . ." Breakdown immediately woke up at the tone of the sparkling's voice. He didn't move out of the berth however, baffled. He checked his chronometer, and it was late into the night, too late for even Jetfire to be up.

_CLOMP. CLOMP . . . CLOMP. SCRITCH-SCRITCH-SCRITCH._ That sound was odd as well. Breakdown cautiously sat up. From how heavy it sounded, it was far too big to be a glitch-mouse, or even for a turbo-fox, or even Jetfire. No, the pede-steps _far _too heavy.

"Papa? Where are you?" Jetfire's whispering voice trembled. That sound, it wasn't right, no, not at all. Not for an innocent sparkling. Such fear-

_**CRASH.**_

"PAPA! HELP!"

"I'M COMIN' JETFIRE!" Breakdown bolted out of the berth as he turned a servo into a weapon he hadn't used in stellar cycles. He found the culprit. A tall Cybertronian, in a poncho, _dared_ to stuff Jetfire into a sack. With an almighty swing of his sledgehammer, Breakdown slammed his weapon into the kidnapper's stomach-plating.

That sent the offender flying.

"Papa!" Breakdown hurriedly hoisted Jetfire out of his imprisonment. The mech swore under his breath as he saw the carbon-based ropes that tied Jetfire up. He couldn't help but stare at the gag Jetfire managed to spit out, and the tears that managed to fall down his face-plates.

"Papa-"

"Shh, shh, it's ok," Breakdown whispered soothingly. He grabbed the small dagger that was strapped to his thigh and pressed a button just below the blade. The metal whirred to life with the glow of energon. Quickly, the Stunticon sliced the ropes off of Jetfire. He quickly ripped the gag off from the bitlet's neck and cradled the sparkling in his arms. "You all right?"

"Y-yeah . . ."

"Well, well, well," chortled the trespasser. Breakdown immediately pushed Jetfire behind him. Breakdown was a perfect block to prevent the interloper from laying optics upon the innocent sparkling.

Breakdown loathed that voice, he loathed it with every fiber of his being. The last time he encountered him was when Jetfire was only half the age he was now.

How did the bounty hunter find him?

"What do you want, Lockdown?" the Stunticon growled at the bounty hunter. He scowled at the mismatched mech, who smugly rubbed his chin in contemplation. What kind of a mech cannibalized pieces of different Cybertronians to get their mods?

"Well . . . the original bounty was to drag you to the Autobot base, Fortress Maximus, but I see you have a little one-"

"He's an innocent in all this you tattooed freak, leave him alone," Breakdown barked. Jetfire shivered behind him, terrified. At the same time, Breakdown worried. Lockdown wasn't known for associating with the Autobots. _'Decepticons pay better',_ was what the bounty hunter was most often said when questioned about why he gave certain Autobots of Neutrals over to the Decepticon cause.

"Ah, well, I'm actually here to enlighten the little fella, Breaky-"

"Don't you. _Dare._ Talk to him!" Breakdown growled. He brandished his dagger and sledgehammer.

"Whoa-ho-ho," Lockdown chuckled darkly as he waved his servo and hook around, trying to pacify the Stunticon. "Easy there Breakdown."

Meanwhile, Jetfire behind Breakdown, but some curiosity was present this time. What did the funny-looking 'bounty hunter' want to say?

"Listen, the factions on either side are in need of new soldiers."

"Over my cold, offline chassis this little one is gonna go over to any one of them! He's-" Lockdown cut him off with a dark chuckle. It sent shocks of terror down Jetfire's spinal strut. The bitlet squished himself impossibly nearer to his guardian's chassis.

"You think that's gonna happen? Wake up and smell the crystals Breakdown: there are no civilians in this war." Lockdown pointed behind him. Breakdown looked to where he pointed and saw the distant lights of several ships. And none belonged to the small colony.

"What trick are you playing you piece of-"

"Autobots of course," Lockdown drawled with his accent. Breakdown felt his spark stall at the sound of the faction. "They've been looking for ya, ya know." Breakdown hissed.

_Slag it all,_ he thought to himself as he noticed Jetfire looking up at him with apprehension. _I can't let them capture me, for his sake . . ._

"I estimate ya got ten to fifteen cycles 'fore they come knocking."

"And?"

Lockdown's mouth quirked up into a malicious grin. "You know me too well darlin'-"

"For for scrap's sake, get on with it! And call me that again, I'll-"

"Not in front of the kid." Lockdown smirked at Breakdown's temper seeping to the surface.

Breakdown exhaled; he wasn't about to let the poor excuse of a mech get gratification from his emotions. The Stunticon quickly sent an apologetic glance over to Jetfire, who quickly nodded in understanding. This wasn't the first time odd mechs or femmes confronted his Papa.

"One of yer sledgehammers." Breakdown scowled at the mech in front of him.

"How about this dagger of mine?" the Stunticon suggested. He held it up and hoped for the best as Lockdown took it and scrutinized the weapon. "It's made of the same thing Ultra Magnus's kid's ax is made of."

"Solitarium, that stuff is hard to come by in these parts," Lockdown murmured to himself. Breakdown somehow managed not to roll his optic at the bounty hunter as the taller mech murmured to himself, "This baby is gonna be worth a lot of credits . . ."

"Eh, all right." Lockdown pocketed his loot and quietly nodded at the pair in front of him. "I'll let the bounty to someone else, but word of advice: don't get too attached."

Breakdown scowled at him. Like a warning shot from a gun, he slammed his sledgehammer to the ground, which in turn made Lockdown run faster and Jetfire shiver.

As the sound echoed ominously throughout the neighborhood, two shadows in the night quickly grabbed their supplies and bolted for their ship. Breakdown held Jetfire's servo as the latter looked back to the nice neighborhood. They'd been here for several vorns now . . . a record for how they usually ran from place to place.

And again, they needed to disappear.

* * *

_**KA-BOOM!**_

The group of newly graduated cadets automatically ducked for cover or dived to the floor as a stream of smoke, tiny specks of debris, and soot erupted from the room to their left. In two seconds however, a well-known figure waltzed out. He acted as if his lab hadn't spontaneously combusted.

"Well!" he chortled to himself, "now I know that those two chemicals don't mix too well! Ha, at least it didn't take out the entire wing, not like last time . . ." the cadets couldn't help but gawk at the engineer. He was well-known to just about everyone in the Autobot Army, but seeing him in the metal for the first time was a bit unnerving . . .

Wheeljack was known to blow up his lab more often than any other spontaneous combustions that occurred out in the battlefield. And then the engineer would end up in Ratchet the Hatchet's med-bay to receive a very loud lecture from said medic. The chuckling mech was lucky that he didn't lose anymore limbs, or this time at least.

The elder mech finally noticed the throng of spectators that stared at him. "Ah! Never seen the lot of you before, must be the new graduates, I presume." He curtly nodded at them. Quickly, he removed a cleaning cloth from his sub-space and began to wipe the soot and other tiny debris from his helm. "I must apologize for that sudden explosion. 'Never mix unknown chemicals together', my old instructor told me, heh, ages ago . . ." There was a tone of wistfulness in the mech's tone at the last part.

He looked up at the wall just to his left then, where a clock was situated. "Oh!" he exclaimed. He turned round and round, somewhat horrified.

"Um, are you looking for-" one of the new cadets started, but Wheeljack beat him to it.

"Have any of you seen Jetstorm?" There were blank expressions from the group of cadets. Each one turned to the other as they spoke.

"Jetstorm?"

"Have you heard of him?"

"No, you?"

"I haven't the foggiest idea."

"Nope."

"Uh-uh."

Wheeljack frowned behind his face-mask. Where could the little bitlet gone off to? He looked to the cadets then, their attention fully back to him. He decided to give him the full detailed description of his little charge.

"Well so that you know, Jetstorm is a little sparkling." That gained many of the cadets' attention. Sparklings were a rare thing nowadays. "He's about this high-" he straightened his servo so that his fingers jutted toward a nearby cadet; the height of where he placed said servo was about two to three feet above his knees. "Derma-plating is black, but armor is dark and light blue, yellow in various places, has a visor-"

"Wheeljack!" barked a playful voice. The cadets and Wheeljack swiveled around to see another well-known higher-up in the Autobot Army headed toward them.

Jazz.

"You oughta keep a closer eye on this little guy!" he chuckled. A few of the femmes cooed at the sparkling perched on the Cyber-Ninja's shoulders. He was rather skinny for a sparkling, but he sure looked cute. With his little servos, Jetstorm tapped a rhythm on the black and white's helm.

"There he is!" Wheeljack chuckled.

"Mech, ya forgot you dropped him off in my quarters?" Jazz lightly teased. He reached up and took the little bitlet off of his shoulders. Once he set Jetstorm on the ground, the little sparkling zoomed to Wheeljack.

"Wait-!" It was too late; by the time Wheeljack uttered that, Jetstorm had already clung to the blackened pede.

"Looks like someone is in for _another _bath," Jazz chuckled. Wheeljack raised an optic ridge at the visor bearing mech and the latter mouthed, 'finger painting'. The engineer's helm fins flashed an amused pink-orange.

"Mr. Wheeljack! Mr. Wheeljack, sir!" Jetstorm happily tittered. He nuzzled his face against the soot covered limb, not caring for the stuff getting onto his own face-plates. Around him, the new cadets chuckled warmly.

"Yeah little guy?" Wheeljack responded. He squatted so that he was optic-level with the mechling. He can only smile at the adorable face-plates that were covered in ash.

"I and Mr. Jazz sir painted with fingers!" he proudly splayed open his servos, which showed the few remains of bright colored pigments. Wheeljack's helm fins glowed pink-orange once again as Jetstorm cupped the engineer's face in his servos.

"Ok bitlet," Wheeljack said. He picked up the sparkling, who squealed in delight of being carried, and smiled at him. Jetstorm giggled, and that mustered grins and several drawn out 'aw's'. Wheeljack turned to the cadets.

"If any of you see Ratchet coming around and looking for me, tell him I am giving a bath to this little guy here-" he pinched the sparkling's cheek, in which Jetstorm responded with a squeal, "and that I'm going to clean up my lab as soon as I'm done. Understand?"

"Yes sir," the cadets responded.

"Don't call him 'sir', he works for a living," Jazz nodded. "Dismissed." The cadets quickly dispersed to explore more of Fortress Maximus as Wheeljack headed straight toward the wash-racks with a happily chattering sparkling.

"Uh, Jazz?" a voice asked him. The Cyber-Ninja turned to look at the only familiar face from all the new cadets.

"Glad you graduated O, how you doing?" Jazz responded with a bright smile. They shook servos. The cadet named Optimus smiled at the moniker Jazz bestowed upon him since he was a little sparkling.

"Given that I barely survived Kup's training, yes, I'm fine." The youngling exhaled quietly. Jazz suppressed the frown that threatened to break out onto his face-plates.

"Somethin's botherin' ya. Care to share?" Jazz asked, though it was more of a statement.

"Um, can we talk somewhere more private?" the red and blue mech whispered. Jazz nodded.

"I'm gonna stop by Maccadam's Old Oil House after my shift ends. Ya wanna meet there, kid?" Optimus gladly nodded.

"Don't try to get me to buy ya high-grade, youngling. Yer daddy would fire me." Optimus exhaled as he shook his helm.

"You know I don't plan on ever taking a sip of that stuff . . . " Jazz laughed, his rich voice echoed into the hall.

"Not even for Visco?" Optimus gave him a deadpan look.

"Ok, ok, yer crystal," he bobbed his helm. "See you there?"

"Yes."

"A'right, later Optimus! Enjoy the still time while ya can," Jazz stated as he waltzed away. As the Cyber-Ninja hummed as he exited, Optimus couldn't help but note the somber tone of the usually happy mech.

'_Enjoy the still time while ya can'._

O*O*O

Wheeljack carefully crept out of the sparkling nursery. There were ten in total, including Jetstorm. As soon as he stepped out into the hall, the engineer peeked back in and looked at the little mech near the door. He smiled as he saw that Jetstorm curled up with a worn, obviously well-loved turbo-fox plush. An optic was missing, but the slumbering sparkling didn't notice.

As soon as Wheeljack closed the door, he heard, "Wheeljack, why are you still checking on the sparkling whilst you know that he's fully in recharge?"

Wheeljack turned around, smiling. "Hey Percy, why are you here?" The mech gave no reaction whatsoever to the nickname.

"I wanted to discuss with you about the strange anomaly in Jetstorm's spark."

Ah, that.

"Um, yeah . . . can we talk about it back in your lab?" Wheeljack said. He jutted a thumb back over to the door behind him. "The little guy begged me not to mention it within earshot of the other sparklings."

"Noted," Perceptor's monotone voice stated. "Shall I meet you in a few cycles then?"

"Yes, but . . ." Wheeljack's voice trailed off as he remembered what he _truly_ wanted to talk to the scientist about.

"Wheeljack, finish your incomplete sentence."

"It's . . . nothing. I'll see you there." Perceptor blinked; the closest thing to a nod he could muster and left.

Wheeljack ex-vented deeply. "Oh Perceptor . . . why did you want to erase your emotions?"

"Wheeljack?" a voice groggily mumbled. The said mech poked his helm back into the nursery and noticed that Jetstorm looked up at him with tired optics.

His unique, amber optics.

"Yeah Jetstorm?"

"Vhy is ex-vent so sad?"

Wheeljack fought to keep his voice even as he replied, "It's . . . something from before your time kiddo. Don't sweat over it." The engineer walked back in and patted Jetstorm's helm. "Get some recharge. Tomorrow's check-up day."

"Okay . . ." The little one pressed his face-plates back to the plush and his optics closed. Wheeljack smiled at the little one and gently pulled the yellow blanket back over the bitlet's tiny body.

"Primus, the first time I blink, I see you in the ruins," Wheeljack mumbled. "I blink again, and then your crawling, talking, walking and when I blink again . . . you'll be a youngling and in the war." His spark clenched and he shuddered at the thought.

Wheeljack knew Jetstorm always smiled at his caretakers. But every time the little one caught sight of the engineer, there was that extra big smile reserved for him and him only.

"Too bad I can't adopt him," Wheeljack sighed. He shook his helm. That course of thought and action was utterly dangerous, even in a war that was having a 'slow stage' for the past four vorns and two stellar cycles.

He hoped that it could stay at a mild stand-still . . . just a little longer for the sparklings' sake.

* * *

**A/N: Poor Wheeljack . . . a still stage during war time is usually very fleeting . . . and like Lockdown said, "There are no such things as civilians in this war." Please read and review!**


	3. Getting In: Part I

_Several vorns later . . ._

"Jetfire-"

The youngling doesn't listen as he stormed out of the house. With good measure, he slammed the door behind him. Jetfire donned a scowl. He grumbled how 'life wasn't fair' and other curses under his breath as he stomped to his night shift at the local bar.

From the window of the small home, a weary Stunticon watched as his son stomped away. Breakdown placed a servo upon his face-plates and rubbed. He tried in vain to stop the incoming helm-ache.

After the encounter with Lockdown, Jetfire never recovered. It made Jetfire bitter every time they had to 'move' from a place they had settled down in for a time, no matter how short, to get away from Autobots. From time to time, Decepticons and bounty hunters, but it was mainly Autobots.

It didn't matter to Jetfire: whatever they ran from were because of the Autobots. In turn, the youngling grew a rebellious streak that made Breakdown wonder what had happened to the sweet sparkling he raised.

"Oh Primus, spare me more patience," Breakdown rumbled quietly. He winced as he bent his left knee a little too far. He glanced down at the slightly rusted joint; a souvenir from a bounty hunter's blaster fire that nearly crippled him. He sighed as he hobbled back into the kitchen to try to repair his joint.

**O*O*O**

The first time Jetfire had entered _The Pit Stop,_ the most famous bar in Neutral Territory, he had been desperate for a job.

When Jetfire and Breakdown had just arrived onto the small colony, Breakdown had suffered burns from ion blasters and several rust infections. They had barely managed to shake off the bounty hunters from the tail of their ship.

Immediately after they crash-landed, a kind Neutral had led them to the best medic in the colony. The only thing was . . . the medic wasn't too subtle with his disliking of the Stunticon.

At least the medic was 'kind' enough to shut the door so that the other nurses couldn't hear them speak.

"You're the slagging wanted mech those bounty hunters, 'Cons and 'Bots have been madly searching for!" the medic sneered. "I have half of a processor to turn you in, you-"

"Please," Jetfire pleaded. He stood directly in front of the mech's face-plates. To the elder mech's shock, the youngling was about a helm taller than him. "Fixing him. He's Papa-"

"Jetfire, no-" Breakdown tried in vain to prop himself up on the berth. With his injuries however, his usually powerful arms gave out and he collapsed with a _BANG! _back into it.

"Papa!"

"I'm injured, not going offline kid," Breakdown grunted, both in pain and annoyance.

"And anyway youngling, my repairs, especially to the extent on your Creator, isn't cheap," the medic added casually. Jetfire felt his tanks drop to his pedes. If he were an organic, his face would've been pale with an ill feeling.

Breakdown and Jetfire barely had any credits to buy a scooter-bot sized energon cube.

"Um . . . amounting of credits . . . not much so," Jetfire admitted. He ignored the flabbergasted look Breakdown sent him.

"Hmm . . ." the medic looked the youngling up, down and up once again. "I'll repair your Creator, but on one condition." Jetfire swallowed nervously as he stared at the medic. Meanwhile, Breakdown struggled to sit upright, but to no avail.

"If you put him up to anything vile, I'll personally-"

"No!" the medic responded vehemently, appalled. "I wouldn't dare do that!" Jetfire audibly exhaled with relief.

"What I meant to say was this: I have a friend-actually more of an acquaintance that needs another servo in his bar. A job opportunity for you youngling, if you will."

"Papa . . ." Jetfire sighed. He looked into the yellow eyes of his caretaker. Breakdown looked away. "The credits, it earns."

Breakdown exhaled. "As much as I'm gonna agree," he struggled to get up, and this time Jetfire helped him sit up against the wall, "be slaggin' careful. There are optics that aren't just out for me anymore. It's also for you."

"Ok." Jetfire turned to the medic, optic ridges furrowed.

"Thorough being."

"I will. I am a medic after all."

**O*O*O**

Jetfire grumbled as he was forced to wear his 'uniform'. It was known by many names: _'The Pink Monstrosity', 'The Pink Shock', 'The Pink Spark-Breaker', 'The Pink-'_, though it still was that. Jetfire's boss had insisted that the 'new guy' would always have to wear the Pink So-and-So.

It was a sad attempt to mimic the Earthling's way of covering themselves with an apron. In reality, the _thing_ Jetfire had to don upon his chassis were about twenty different _pink polishing cloths_ slapped, glued, and or poorly stitched together.

Currently, the youngling frowned as he briskly scrubbed through several glass energon cubes and oil drums. He coughed as the hot water and steam wafted up into his intakes. Jetfire took a step back and hacked raggedly.

A swinging door opened up, revealing one of the bartenders of the little bar.

"You ok back there?" he asked.

"Yes, being yes so," Jetfire sniffed as he wiped away the excess moisture from his face. "Ugh. Steam much!"

The bartender laughed. "Easy there kid. Don't want your intakes to rust." He reached into his wrist compartment. The friendly mech tossed a clean cloth to the youngling, which the latter gladly took to wipe his face-plates.

"Mister Glitz, sir," Jetfire stated once he finished the last of his dishes, "me join you?"

"Sure kid, c'mon out," Glitz smiled. Jetfire happily tore off the 'apron' and pranced out after Glitz.

Glitz fit his name, especially since his black and white armor had a glittery effect from his paint. Rumor had it that the mech was once a dancer in a risqué part of Iacon. However, as far as the youngling knew, the bartender just had a spark-mate that was two asteroids away and was expecting twins.

Just an eccentric, the youngling concluded.

Jetfire hopped behind Glitz and greeted the apprentice bartender, Onyx. The black and grey femme politely nodded at the two as they passed, and turned her attention back to polishing the energon cubes.

"Hey Glitz! I'm gonna need a pair of Polarity Smashers!"

"Glitz! Some energon!"

"Glitz! Refill!"

"Hey-a Glitz! Gonna need some Visco!"

"GLITZ!"

"GLITZ~!"

Jetfire's processor whirled as he watched Glitz do his bartender magic. The black and white darted down beneath the counter to get his ingredients and just as quickly shot back up to mix and then toss whatever the patron ordered back to them.

"How do it?" he asked Glitz once he got out of his stupor. The mech had single-handedly taken, mixed, and served up fifteen different orders.

The elder mech laughed. He clapped a hearty servo upon the youngling's shoulder and whispered, "A lot of experience. My old Sire was one too." Glitz chuckled as he shook his helm, wistful. A slightly morose expression crossed the black and white's face-plates as he added, "Now, the ol' clicker of his is resting in peace."

"Sorry," Jetfire whispered, sympathetic.

Glitz donned a small smile then. He turned to the youngling. "Ah, it's all right kid, anyway-"

_WHOOSH!_

All manner of communication literally froze as door whipped ominously inward. Soon, three strange patrons walked in. Before the youngling could process what happened, Glitz shoved Jetfire down. The youngling landed shoulder first onto the floor with an _OOF!_

Jetfire almost bolted upright to give the bartender a piece of his processor, but stopped when he noticed that Glitz seemed genuinely afraid. Judging from the bartender's quick look he sent him, Jetfire had to _stay. Down._

"Hello," a sultry, feminine voice cooed. Quickly, Glitz and his apprentice shoved several open and empty boxes atop the youngling as Jetfire pressed himself against the ground.

The youngling stared up at Glitz's digits gripping the underside of the metal counter, enough to leave dents. Beside him, Onyx's dainty servos formed into fists. A shadow passed over him, and Jetfire didn't dare move. He could make out through all the boxes that the shadow belonged to a Seeker.

She seemed to have no qualms in not giving Glitz his personal space as she _leaned _over the counter, setting her aft atop it as well. Unfortunately, that move gave Jetfire a very inappropriate glimpse of her chest-plates. The youngling carefully clapped a servo over his innocent optics, whose face matched the hue of pink roses.

Meanwhile, the Seeker sported a smirk.

"Hello handsome," she purred. She reached out with a digit to stroke the mech bartender's chest-plate, right over his spark chamber. Quickly, Onyx snagged her wrist and violently shoved the femme away. The black and grey femme glared daggers at the Seeker, who didn't seem to mind. In fact, the Seeker mockingly laughed, smug.

"He has a spark-mate," Onyx hissed.

"Aw," the other femme snickered. "Is someone jealous?"

"Why you-" Glitz held Onyx back by her shoulders before she could damage the Seeker. Glitz quickly hissed, "Stay out of this kid, she's a 'Con!"

"That's right little sparkling," the Seeker teased. She flicked at the younger femme's forehead the same way a human would do to an annoying bug. "Let the _adults_ talk." Onyx bristled and was ready to lash out at the Seeker, but stopped cold as two HUGE mech Seekers stepped behind the smug femme.

_"Seekers, more or less, are always in a Trine," _Breakdown had told Jetfire. The youngling prayed that the two huge mechs wouldn't hurt Glitz or Onyx. They were tough when needed to be, but in a three-to-two fight? It wasn't fair!

"Two Viscos, and . . ." the femme stared up at the menu, lighted up behind the bartenders. She smirked, "Just a cube for me, mid-grade energon with a bit of bleach and *caramelized rust." Jetfire quietly exhaled. Well, this was certainly new . . . and he glad his prayers that he and his co-workers would live to see another day.

However, it didn't stop the curiosity Jetfire had for them once they left.

**O*O*O**

"Don't try to hide it," one of the Seekers chuckled. His paint job was mostly a dark taupe and silver. Jetfire nonchalantly held the energon cube the Trine had given him. "You wanna know anything, just ask," the femme added.

"Glitz say Decepticons, you," Jetfire started. He couldn't believe he got into this situation. As soon as Jetfire left shift, he had been stopped by the Seeker Trine for a chat. Frankly, they were rather kind to him. In fact, the femme's personality was a lot more approachable now.

"Well yeah," the other male Seeker replied. His paint job was a sickly green and black. "That's the Autobot's way of demonizing us; we're the good guys! It's _them_ that are the problem." Jetfire leaned forward, eager to hear more of the Great War.

Breakdown never told the youngling of his experience in the War, nor what side he was on.

"Vhy?"

"Oh, pfft, where do I start?" the femme chuckled. She had a deliciously fine frame: all curves and a sassy attitude. Jetfire had a hard time trying to keep his optics to her face-plates. "Well, it goes _way_ back, probably even before your Sire's time."

"In fact, we aren't so sure of how it all began anymore," the brown-silver Seeker admitted. "We've been fighting so long, we forgot . . ." a sad expression crossed his face.

"We lost our Creators to the Autobots from a bombing," the femme sighed. The trio glanced upwards for a moment before turning back to the stunned youngling.

"We just need a few more good servos on our side," the Vosian said earnestly. Then the Trine continue to recount a few stories of their own. Valiantly trying to save one of their own as he was shot down, effectively pushing back the enemy with just their bare servos, doing dynamic stunts in the air to fool the Autobots into shooting one another.

The eldest Vosian, the green and black one, showed off an etching that was done onto his arm. It was the similar to a tattoo, and Jetfire gazed upon it as if it were an award.

"I got this from a friend of mine . . . that is, before he offlined at least," he explained. "It was his way for thanking me for saving him from a building falling on top of him."

"Then he died a quick death: dagger to the central processing line." He demonstrated what happened with his long digit. Jetfire winced as he saw the appendage graze over the back of the Seeker's nape.

Like any determined being, Jetfire came to a decision.

"Vant to help." The Trine gaped at him.

"Can you repeat that?" the femme asked. The accent the youngling sported somewhat hindered her understanding.

"Me. Help," Jetfire responded. He nodded eagerly. Quite frankly, Jetfire didn't really want to be stuck in his position at _The Pit Stop_ any longer. Not only that, but Breakdown's overprotective tendencies were starting to grate on his nerves.

"You're just about the age to enter the War now," the second Seeker murmured. He quickly scrutinized the youngling. "You may be a ground-pounder at the moment . . . but believe it or not-" The Seeker quickly grabbed Jetfire's pede and inspected the bottom of it. He grinned.

"Just as I suspected. You're part Seeker!" Once he let go of the appendage, he stuck out his servo to Jetfire.

"What do you say? We can teach you how to fly kiddo!"

Jetfire's innocent optics widened in excitement. Not only that, he'd have a part in stopping the Autobots. Once they were done for, Breakdown wouldn't have to keep running anymore . . .

How could Jetfire say no?

* * *

**A/N: And that's where it'll stop for now folks! *evil laugh* Ooooh, I personally can't wait to write the next chapter for Jetstorm's bit on how he decides to join in the War.**

**Breakdown ain't gonna be happy with Jetfire . . . no sir.**

***Caramelized rust: their version of caramel**


	4. Getting In: Part II

**A/N: This chapter will be mostly centered on Jetstorm and how he decides to go into the War (and other characters). However, the first tidbit is gonna be Breakdown's reaction when Jetfire tells him of his (Jetfire's) plan to go to the Decepticons.**

* * *

"There he is," she gestured out to where a figure was running toward them. "Right on time." The Seekers smiled. They had parked their ship on the outskirts of the Neutral colony. As per Megatron's orders, they had to leave soon. The Seekers were lucky the youngling was punctual.

One of the Trine members frowned as Jetfire drew closer. Then his optics widened in shock.

"What the _scrap _happened to you?" the eldest of them asked. The others gaped once Jetfire was an arm length away.

Jetfire carried a container of his belongings in one servo. The other one was pressed firmly against his olfactory sensor. There was an obvious dent in the youngling's face-plates from a large fist that connected into it. A thin line of pink energon seeped down from Jetfire's nose. Lubricant streamed down the half-Seeker's anguished face-plates.

"Take it one of your Creator's-" the Seeker was silenced by the look his sister shot him.

"C'mon kid, it won't be so bad," the eldest sighed. He placed a calming servo upon the youngling's upper back and guided him into the ship. Jetfire sniffed as quickly rubbed away his tears as he walked into the tiny ship.

He didn't look back.

That night cycle in Jetfire's recharge, the memory of what happened replayed in his processor.

**O*O*O**

_Jetfire nearly had a spark-attack when Breakdown stepped into his room. The little area didn't have much, other than a small berth, desk and a few old data-pads. But, for Breakdown to see it nearly _empty, _made the Stunticon stunned. Jetfire looked guilty as he stood over a packing unit. He avoided his caretaker's gaze as Breakdown analyzed the situation._

_"Jetfire?" Breakdown managed to utter once he found his voice. "Where are you going?" Jetfire didn't answer. His fingers traced upon the edge of the suitcase-like unit._

_"Jetfire?"_

_"Joining," Jetfire answered, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. However, seeing Breakdown's expression dissolve from bewilderment to anger was terrifying._

_"YOU ARE NOT GOING TO JOIN IN THAT PRIMUS-FORSAKEN WAR!" Breakdown boomed. Suddenly, in a rare fit of fury, Jetfire slammed the top of his suitcase closed and stood tall. He glared at Breakdown._

_"So vhat?!" Jetfire shouted back. Primus, he was _**sick **_of how Breakdown treated him! He wasn't a whelp anymore: he was a youngling now! "I old enough is!"_

_"Frankly, you aren't thinking straight!"_

_"VHAT-CAN SEE ME OK?" Jetfire gestured to his frame. Breakdown's servos clenched into fists, but all the while he really _did not _want Jetfire to have a pede into the war._

_"YES. I CAN. I KNOW WHAT RECRUITERS DO FOR EACH OF THE SIDES!" Breakdown bellowed. The two were literally toe-to-toe as they glowered at each other. "They sweet talk to you, but they don't give the full details of what happens on the field!"_

_"Vell, how me can know?! You telling never! Tell no bot! NONE!" Jetfire's voice get exceptionally loud. _**"Tell me!"**

_There was a morose expression on Breakdown's face as Jetfire continued to glare at him. "Youngling," Breakdown whispered, solemn. "I lost my whole team due to the other side. This war has messed me up more than you can imagine . . ." __To Jetfire, that wasn't enough. _

_The__ youngling swung a fist at Breakdown._

_**CLANG!**_

_Jetfire had ended up on the floor. The youngling grabbed at his face-plates; a loud keen of pain escaped him. There was a faint trace of energon coming from his olfactory sensor._

_Making his decision, Jetfire grabbed his suitcase, and dashed out the door. He ignored Breakdown shouting for him to come back._

**O*O*O**

"Oh scrap, I'm-Jetfire-JETFIRE!" Breakdown bellowed as his youngling grabbed his bag and bolted out to the door. "JETFIRE! YOUNGLING! COME BACK!" Breakdown tried to run after the youngling, only to have his bad knee trip him up. The Stunticon fell down to the floor.

"I'm sorry! I'm so . . ." Breakdown's spark squeezed in utter horror as he couldn't see Jetfire anymore. He's numb as Glitz and Onyx barged in through the same door Jetfire exited.

"What the scrap-oh no," Glitz murmured.

"I'll go after him!" Onyx exclaimed. Glitz waved her off and she leapt out to chase after the youngling.

"I-I-I . . ." Breakdown sounded like a broken record as Glitz helped the larger mech to his pedes.

"Easy big guy," Glitz shushed as he set Breakdown upon a nearby chair. "Lemme see your knee." Breakdown finally broke out of his one-track thought to stare at his banged-up knee. The Stunticon face-palmed as he groaned.

His joint sparked like a firecracker.

"Scrap!" Breakdown swore as Glitz gently touched the covering.

"Sorry," the younger one murmured. He set to work to try to do a quick patch job. "I'll get Salvage here to get it properly done, but for now . . . you might be limping a lot more than you used to."

"Thanks for the reminder," Breakdown scowled. He quickly gave an apologetic expression to the bartender, who just waved the Stunticon to calm down. "I-I'm sorry . . . I just wish I had done something sooner-"

"Who can predict the future?" Glitz questioned. He looked back up to the elder mech. "Who?"

Breakdown sighed in defeat.

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?" Glitz asked.

Breakdown had a pained expression. "I tried to stop him . . . and then we yelled . . . I screamed at him, and he threw a punch at me." Glitz looked up from his task a moment to stare at Breakdown.

"I miscalculated my block, and I knocked one to his face-plates . . . he's off to join the war: Decepticon recruiters got to him."

"Primus," Glitz whispered. He soon had a determined look on his face-plates. "He'll come back."

"Who can predict the future?" Breakdown retorted. "Glitz, you and I know how Megatron keeps an iron fist around his army . . . you barely escaped it yourself."

"I got lucky," the bartender murmured. He soon had a hopeful smile. "Maybe Jetfire will too. After all, you got him out of a bombed Neutral Territory in the first place."

"That was-"

"YAAAAAAAAHHHH!" A blur of black and grey raced back in.

"What-?" Glitz was suddenly tackled by his apprentice. They ended up on the floor. The fact that the black femme straddling him would have made Breakdown laugh, but her terrified expression made him worried.

"Woman, what in blue blazes-?!"

"WE HAVE TO GO, NOW!" she shouted.

"What's goin-?"

"DECEPTICONS INCOMING! A WHOLE LOTTA THEM! AN ARMADA! WE GOTTA MOVE!" Onyx shrieked. "Salvage is outside with his ship, everyone's climbing to their own ships, C'MON!" She helped Glitz carry Breakdown outside, where Salvage was with his medical kit and he impatiently waved them in.

Just as the trio stepped into the med-ship and the draw-bridge closed, an explosion rocked the entire colony. Breakdown looked out the port-side window. His jaw dropped in alarm.

Before his very optics, the entire colony blew to smithereens.

* * *

_Fortress Maximus, just outside the Med-Bay Wing . . ._

"How many times has he blown himself up now?" Jazz asked. He handed the taller youngling his morning ration. Jetstorm looked exhausted.

"Me lose count," Jetstorm replied. He noticed the cube and took it. He shook his helm, somewhat in disbelief and amusement. "Many times before me came here, remember?" Jazz chuckled at how calm the blue youngling was.

Currently, the pair stood outside the med-bay that was Ratchet the Hatchet's domain. Even with the doors closed, one could hear all the yelling and scolding from the irate medic. Jetstorm sat on a nearby bench and cradled the energon cube in his servos. Beside him was the black and white Cyber-Ninja, who leaned against the wall.

"You used to it by now?"

Jetstorm quirked up an optic ridge as he contemplated the question. The youngling sipped his energon, and exhaled. "No, but Mr. Wheeljack situation happened before, many times."

"Good thing you were nearby kid, your powers sure come in handy," Jazz gestured to Jetstorm in a friendly way. To demonstrate his unique ability, Jetstorm set down his cube and turned his palms facing up. With a bit of concentration, the youngling soon formed a miniature tornado in them. He clapped his servos together and the mini tornado disappeared.

After the explosion, a huge fire had raged in Wheeljack's lab. That in itself was dangerous to the mech, who had lost a leg and an arm in the combustion. With fire added to the mix, it had a lethal proximity to other flammable chemicals. Luckily, Jetstorm had been close to the lab. With the help of several cadets, they put the fire out and dragged Wheeljack, and his detached limbs, to Ratchet.

"Weird is."

"What's weird?"

"Me," Jetstorm stated. Jazz gave him a confused look. "Mr. Wheeljack finding me, alone . . . then check spark."

"He tol' ya?" the Elite Guardsmech asked, surprised.

"Yeah, said me is old enough," Jetstorm said. He absently rubbed a servo against his chest-plates.

He was a split-spark twin. Wheeljack never found out who the other twin was and sadly was most likely too far away for Jetstorm to form a proper bond, or to even feel what emotions his other half experienced.

Or his twin could be dead, as far as anyone knew.

"Hey, well, I don't mean to sound kinda insensitive, but . . ." Jazz situated himself next to the youngling. "Maybe it's for the better." Jetstorm quietly exhaled.

Jazz quickly changed the subject with a snap of his fingers. "Hey, wanna go and check out our alien visitors?" Jetstorm let out a small chuckle and shook his helm.

"They humans," Jetstorm clarified.

"Pfft, still aliens: they ain't from this neck of the woods," Jazz quipped. He bounced up and Jetstorm quickly followed.

A few solar cycles ago, an escape pod of alien make crashed into Jetstorm's room. The youngling wasn't in it at the time, but seeing a flock of Autobot scientists at the entrance of his room startled him beyond comprehension.

Inside the large pod were two organics. Immediately, most of the scientists ran for the hills, so to speak, but only Perceptor, Jetstorm and Wheeljack really took a look at them.

It wasn't until Wheeljack recognized the younger of the two. He'd only seen her from holo-scans from a certain yellow scout, much younger, but it was hard for the engineer to forget the shade of hair she had.

Sari Sumdac.

A few stellar cycles ago, Optimus's team had a space-bridge accident that sent them to Earth, a quadrant many light years away. While on the little planet, Sari Sumdac and her father had kept them well hidden as an Elite Guard transport got to them. It took two of the humans' years for the Elite Guard to get there.

However short a time Optimus's team was on the organic planet, the impression of the little blue marble left them was something they'd never forget. At the time when Optimus's team returned, the information of where they ended up was on a need-to-know basis.

"O.P.'s scout took holo-scans of the kid when they managed to get away from all the hubbub activity from the humans," Jazz chuckled.

"That be how Mr. Wheeljack recognize Sari?" Jetstorm asked.

"Yeah, though you should-a seen Bee when he and his team came in to check for themselves," Jazz chuckled. He shook his helm in amusement. "The scout hugged her so tight, I worried fer a few clicks that the kid was gonna suffocate."

"But . . . quick aging," Jetstorm replied.

That was also true. When Optimus's team first met Sari and Professor Isaac Sumdac, Sari had just been seven years old. The wayward team left Earth when she was about nine and a half. Now Sari was sixteen, about the equivalent of Jetstorm's own age. However, she was still a sparkling in Cybertronian years.

The two walked on in comfortable silence. They made several lefts and rights in Fortress Maximus's extensive hallways. They soon arrived at a normal looking door. What was behind it was a completely different story.

"Let's see," Jazz chuckled. He could hear a conversation going on in Optimus's designated area. Only a few were allowed to enter. Luckily, Jazz and Jetstorm were on the 'ok' list.

Jazz was the first to enter his pass-key and palmed the servo scanner. Jetstorm followed his companion's actions, and soon the door slid open. The pair shuffle in, and as quick as it opened, the door behind them closed shut.

"And they say 'the more the merrier' . . . " one of them groaned.

The rest of the team however, was jovial:

"Hey!"

"Hi!"

"Hello!"

"Hello Jazz, Jetstorm," Optimus smiled at them. Jazz stepped forward and heartily shook servos with the younger mech. Jetstorm quickly snapped into a curt salute at his superior, and let his servo down once Optimus uttered the customary 'at ease'.

"Hey O.P., jus' swinging by to see how our aliens are doing," Jazz commented.

"Hey!" Sari snapped playfully. She mockingly shook her fist at the much taller Cybertronian. "On my planet, YOU guys were the aliens." Jetstorm looked at the teenage human.

Her 'hair' was a bright shade of red that would've put the Autobot insignia to shame. Her brilliant blue eyes were playful, yet willing to be serious if needed be. She had strange armor . . . clothes was it? Jetstorm wasn't so sure . . . it was both orange and crème colored.

"Wow, so tiny . . ." Jetstorm murmured. The youngling had to squat in front of the table to be optic-level with the organic. This was the first time Jetstorm actually saw Sari face-plates to face.

_'Much better than hologram,'_ Jetstorm reasoned with himself. The two stared at one another for a few moments.

"And you have an accent!" Sari replied. Optimus's team, sans Prowl, laughed.

"Well Sari, not everyone has the typical Iaconian," Bumblebee shrugged.

"You're one to talk!" Bulkhead retorted. Jetstorm uncharacteristically flinched as the larger mech ambled over to them. Jetstorm didn't know why, but Bulkhead scared him, even though the youngling knew the green mech was a gentle giant.

"Ugh . . ." Prowl exhaled. He rubbed his forehead in agitation. He finished the last of his cube and set it down.

"Goin' back?" Jazz asked his fellow Cyber-Ninja as he got close to the entrance. Prowl did his best to prevent a scowl coming upon his face.

"Yes, I believe the Dojo will be a bit more easy on my audio-receptors; good solar cycle to you all." The shorter mech soon stomped out.

"Ok he?" Jetstorm wondered aloud.

"Yeah," Bulkhead responded. He waved a stupendously large arm to the door, in which Jetstorm ducked as the limb swung over his helm. "He doesn't like crowds that much: he likes things at a slower pace. He also needs to catch up on his training."

"Yoketron was adamant about that," Optimus added. Jetstorm nodded in understanding. Missing a bit of training, no matter how long or short a period, added up over time.

"Yeah, yeah, but first," Sari stepped closer to Jetstorm and looked up at him. She had a very curious, yet sweet smile.

"Tell me about yourself."

"Yeah, it's funny," Bumblebee chimed in. "I've seen ya around a lot, but I dunno really much about you. Can you tell? That is, if you don't mind that is . . ." he seemed sheepish as his team leader gave him a look.

Before Jetstorm could reply however, there was rapid knocking on the door. Everyone turned to look at the door, curious. Bumblebee burst into laughter as he heard, "Little Jet! Little Jet! Let me come in!" Wheeljack's voice drifted through the barrier. Jazz stared incredulously at the door.

"'Jack, are you ok?" Jazz asked as Jetstorm let in the bandaged engineer. "Yer askin' for another 'Knockout Wrench' from Ratchet!"

"What, can't I visit the youngling?" Wheeljack retorted. The engineer was a sight to see: bandages were wrapped round his helm, arms, shoulders, and his legs. There was still an abundance of scorch marks on the mech chassis, and he smelled of smoke!

Jetstorm face-palmed. "Mr. Wheeljack, sir . . . time next, let me go to you!" The others laughed at the statement. Optimus shook his helm.

"Sit down friend." The Prime let the engineer settle into his chair and Wheeljack gladly took an energon cube from Bulkhead.

"Ah, nothing like some good company to help the healing," Wheeljack sighed, content. Jazz shook his helm in amusement.

Regular chatter soon swept up again.

Jetstorm told Sari how he got into Wheeljack's care, earning astonished looks from the human and her scout friend. Meanwhile, Jazz kept asking the engineer whether or not the mech was out of his processor to try to get Ratchet mad again.

Too soon however, everyone's chronometers pinged.

"Time to get back on duty I'm afraid," Optimus said once his insignia stopped flashing. He turned to the yellow youngling. "Bumblebee, make sure Sari gets to her quarters with her father."

"Yeah, I will Boss-Bot," Bumblebee mock saluted. He let Sari jump into his open servo and soon the two headed out. They were followed by Optimus, Bulkhead, and Jazz.

"You two comin'?" Jazz asked the youngling and the engineer.

"We're gonna stay in here, and wait out Ratchet," Wheeljack said. "See you later?" Jazz simply nodded.

Not one breem later, Bulkhead and Bumblebee witnessed Ratchet dragging Wheeljack and Jetstorm's unconscious bodies to his med-bay.

* * *

_Earlier . . ._

"Even if you're allowed to get out there, I just want you to be extremely careful."

"Always I is." Jetstorm tilted his helm to the side, smiling happily.

"Heh, I know you are," Wheeljack reached out to the youngling to pat his helm affectionately. "I just worry . . . I saw your name on the updated list."

"Happy I is," Jetstorm replied as Wheeljack retracted his servo. He sat a bit straighter. "Vant to help. To stop badness bots hurting more." Wheeljack nodded in understanding.

"Well . . . I understand . . . it's just . . ." Wheeljack exhaled, mentally chastising himself to get on with it. "I've lost many friends and colleagues because of this Primus-forsaken war . . . younglings I knew too . . ."

"I DL being, as Mister Jazz sir says," Jetstorm nodded. Before the engineer can say anything else however, the door slid open.

A voice growled, "Primus Wheeljack?! When will you ever learn to sit still?!"

Wheeljack never got to answer. A wrench thrown to his helm, which ricocheted toward Jetstorm's forehead, knocked them out.


	5. Unexpected Results

**A/N: Ok, now introducing, Wasp and TFA Ironhide! (And another member of Team Athenia).**

* * *

"Dad!" Sari exclaimed, frustrated. Of all the days her father had to spill coffee on his best shirt . . .

"C'mon! We have to go in and meet with Ultra Magnus!"

"I know, I know Sari!" Isaac responded. He dug around for his second best shirt and he beamed as he held it up. "Give me two more minutes!"

Sari face-palmed. "You said that twenty minutes ago!"

Outside their room, Bumblebee and Jetstorm tried in vain to stop their smiles. The duo had a hard time trying not to fall onto the floor and laugh themselves silly.

"Ha-ha! This is better than the holo-vids!" Bumblebee snickered. They miraculously composed themselves as Sari stepped out with her father. While Sari remained in her usual outfit, her father had put on a blue polo shirt and a black tie, with a matching pair of pants.

"Nice," Jetstorm nodded. Bumblebee gave them a thumbs up.

"Take us to Magnus, please," Sari smiled. Jetstorm noticed a slight increase of temperature from Bumblebee.

"All aboard," Bumblebee stated as he offered his hand to Sari and Professor Sumdac. They climbed in and then he placed them onto his shoulders.

"Why are you here Jetstorm?" Sari asked. "I thought you had something to do with Wheeljack."

"Eh, hanging a bit," Jetstorm shrugged. "Mister Wheeljack needs me not until another cycle."

"What are you guys doin' anyway?" Bumblebee asked.

"Testing explosives," Jetstorm answered. He gave then a nonchalant shrug. Bumblebee's jaw dropped as Sari stared at him.

"I knowing, I knowing, but Mister Wheeljack say _'Me is needed'."_

"Probably in-case the fire gets out of control," Bumblebee nodded in understanding.

"Don't leave him waiting," Professor Sumdac suggested. Jetstorm nodded and waved good-bye as he headed toward the courtyard.

**O*O*O**

"Hey! Easy with that!" Wheeljack shouted at Hot Shot. The youngling accidentally dropped a crate of munitions. They were inactive, but still!

"Sorry Wheeljack!" Hot Shot shouted back. He bent over and picked up the box with a sheepish expression. He quickly jogged over to where Ironhide and Wasp had all ready set up their boxes.

"Careful Hot-Head," Wasp grumbled. He grabbed the crowbar tied to his hip. With two easy _thwacks!_ the top of it popped off. The lid landed with a heavy _THUNK _to the floor.

"Thanks Wasp," Wheeljack nodded. He walked over to the younglings and nodded. "I'll take it over from here boys. You better get out of here, it's gonna be a blast zone soon." The trio soon backed out of the way. They dashed to stand behind the transparent shields placed at the edges of the testing area.

"Here I am!" Jetstorm shouted. He pushed through the double doors that were the only exit/entrance to the area. A fire hazard, but the Elite Guard had yet to find enough funds to make another door.

"All right, stand behind the shields where the rest of the young'uns are," Wheeljack smiled. Jetstorm happily did so, standing between Ironhide and Wasp.

"Hey 'Storm," Hot Shot said from Wasp's left. He waved in a silly way as he stuck his tongue out. Jetstorm comically waved back, making the two break into a fit of giggles.

"Shh, they're starting!" Wasp snapped. Jetstorm rolled his optics at the elder youngling that was next to him. They all stared at Wheeljack and his team of explosive and pyrotechnic experts activated the bombs.

The explosives were cylindrical in shape. The tube-like explosives were mostly gun-metal grey, but a red strip circled it's middle. There was a small light-bulb that protruded from the top of it. As far as the younglings knew, once the bomb was ten seconds away from detonating it would flash in a series of colored lights: red, yellow, orange and then the cycle would repeat itself until the big _**KABOOM!**_

"I hope this works," Wheeljack murmured. "Ran too many other test runs . . . I think this'll help our cause." He dodged behind his own transparent shield as he held the controls for the bombs.

"Here goes nothing," a pyrotechnic expert nodded as Wheeljack hit the button.

10 . . . 9, 8, 7, 6-5-4-3-2-1-

. . .

Everyone stared as the main bomb just ejected a stream of smoke. Immediately, it made sounds akin to a clunker put-put-putting.

"Aw man!" Wheeljack groaned in displeasure. He slapped his palm against his remote. "I thought for sure it would work!"

Curious, Hot Shot stepped away from the safety of the transparent shields. He stepped within proximity if the bomb. He noticed a small, purple wire out of place.

"Hey Wheeljack, I think I found your problem!" Hot Shot called. He moved to reconnect the loose wire.

Wheeljack froze. The charge would be-

"KID DON'T-"

_**KA-BOOOOOOOOOM!**_

"SCRAP, NO!"

"Hot Shot!"

"Hot Shot!"

"HOT SHOT!" Jetstorm screamed. He leaped into action as Ironhide and Wasp bolted after him. The three younglings quickly tore apart the other explosives with the help of the other scientists.

"Clear! Clear! Clear!" one of the technicians confirmed. "All explosives are offline!" With that, Ironhide yanked Hot Shot out of the crater he was blown into. Jetstorm felt his tanks drop to his pedes. He was used to Wheeljack blowing himself up . . . Hot Shot was a different story all together.

The youngling's arms and had been blown off into several directions of the room. Pink energon leaked out of his torn limbs and his torso. Huge cracks danced all about Hot Shot's helm as he screamed unintelligibly. The pain and static in his cries was so frightening and alien, Jetstorm was too terrified to get close to him.

"Hey, hey buddy! Stay with me!" Ironhide pleaded with Hot Shot. The orange mech held Hot Shot's helm in his hands. By then, Wasp had rushed up to his best friend and landed beside him. The green and yellow mech quickly assessed the damaged Hot Shot sustained.

The wounded Autobot barely managed to open his optics. The optics flickered, borderline going offline. "Oh no-no-no-no, don't you dare go now!" In all of his functioning stellar cycles knowing the two, Jetstorm had never seen Ironhide and Wasp so afraid before.

**O*O*O**

_That night . . ._

Wheeljack left the waiting room full of waiting Autobot team mates or family members, standing by to hear the news of a wounded comrade.

Hot Shot was going to be ok. That was the good thing. The only bad news was that Team Athenia was going to be short handed-never mind that he was so young-a warrior.

Wheeljack passed by a young messenger, who quickly magnetized a data-pad a nearby wall.

"Hey, what's that?" the mech asked the small messenger. The youngling looked up from his sack full of data-pads. Wheeljack immediately noticed the scars around his throat, right where his voice-box should be.

"Oh sorry, I didn't know-" the messenger waved that off, giving him an easy smile. The mute mech tapped the data-pad attached to the wall and then a title in big red letters announced: **UPDATED DRAFT LIST.**

Wheeljack stepped forward and scrutinized the list. It was for the Autobots that would be sent near the front-lines within the next week. The names went in alphabetical order down the middle of the display:

Decker

Frostbite

Gadget

Gizy

Hailstorm

Heft-Bar

Igneous

Jammer-

Wheeljack felt his spark constrict in horror as he read the next name. "This soon?" he whispered. "I know he's a fast learner . . ."

"I vas going to tell . . ." a meek voice behind him uttered. The engineer numbly turned around to face Jetstorm. Wheeljack focused on the random spots of ash on the youngling's body. Anywhere but his face.

"Whatever you do, if you hear the scream of those explosive shells coming from above, find cover. If some-bot is going at you with a weapon, remember to defend yourself-" Wheeljack soon rambled on and on about what he knew about the battle front. The helm-fins that the engineer sported were soon flashing panicked shades of yellow and green.

Jetstorm listened to his caretaker. Once Wheeljack finished, his intakes were irregular.

"I is only be runner," the youngling explained. Wheeljack threw his servos up into the air as he stammered, "Well, yeah! B-but still-"

The elder mech was silenced as Jetstorm wordlessly went to him and wrapped his arms around the engineer.

* * *

_Decepticon Headquarters: Kaon_

Jetfire was huddled in the middle of the Seekers' odd formation. The largest of the Seekers led the way as his siblings flanked Jetfire, unknowingly squashing him between them.

"Stay close," the eldest stated. Jetfire he found out that he was designated Quickwing. The younger brother was Hipshot-he tended to aim at the enemy's hip-plating oddly enough-and the sister was called 'Shadow' by her friends.

"How farther much?" Jetfire asked.

"Almost there," Quickwing explained. He pointed to the enormous building ahead. "See those double doors with the Decepticon emblem?"

_'Is hard missing not!' _Jetfire wanted to say. Instead, he gaped in awe as they approached the citadel-like building. The doors to the citadel were enormous, at least fourteen stories tall. Each sported the Decepticon emblem that took up at least a third of the surface area of the door.

"Just keep your helm down until your name is called," Shadow recommended.

Jetfire's optics widened. "Vait, yous not vith me?"

Quickwing shook his helm. "We're recruiters. We bring the recruits to the orientation. There's another set of doors behind that one. We'll meet you later, once you get the Decepticon symbol on you."

Once the quartet made it to the entrance, two large Seekers that guarded the doors scrutinized them.

"What business do you have here?" one questioned gruffly.

"New recruit here," Hipshot said as he jerked his helm toward the half-Seeker.

The two huge guards glanced at one another before one of them pressed several numbers on a hidden keypad in the wall. Jetfire and Seeker trine nearly lost their footing as the doors clamorously move inward. The movement of the monstrous slabs rumbled loudly; the sound seemed to echo for miles and miles.

"Enter," said the other guard. The trine quickly grabbed Jetfire and they ushered him inside.

Before he knew it, Jetfire was among the masses of Decepticons in the building. The noise was so loud the recruiters of his were forced to communicate with the youngling by comm-link.

"-Just follow the line,-" Quickwing gestured to the winding queue in front of them. "-There you'll be sorted out and soon you'll get your Decepti-brand-." Jetfire nodded and followed the recruiter's instructions.

**O*O*O**

"NEXT!" the grumpy femme in front of Jetfire barked. The youngling quickly ran forward, nearly knocking the table over.

"I here!" Jetfire responded loudly. The din in the room was insanely loud, so he had to shout. The femme's optics widened as she looked him up and down and up again.

"Follow me please." Jetfire raised an optic in bewilderment. Only one other mech in the line ahead of him was pulled aside . . .

And he hadn't come out.

Could that mean the recruiters put in a word for him?

Jetfire kept silent as his thoughts ran rampant in his helm.

_What was going on?_

_Where am I going?_

_Why was I pulled aside?_

He quietly followed the femme through the dim lighting of the hallways. The steel walls were ominous and lined with dark purple lights.

"Excusing me," Jetfire asked once the femme stopped in front of a greatly decorated door. The entrance was heavily covered in the Decepticon insignia and in a few rows depicted a massive gladiator defeating Autobots.

"My Lord, we have the one the East Vosian Trine has brought in," the femme said aloud.

As the door slid to the left, Jetfire felt his spark jolt in his casing as he realized who the silhouette in the entryway was.

"Is this the _flightless Seeker?"_ the shadow questioned coldly. Quickly, Jetfire fell upon a knee and bowed his helm.

Primus above and Unicron below, he wasn't expecting this . . .

"Yes, Lord Megatron," the youngling responded. He did his best to keep his accent at bay as he added, "P-permission to speak?"

"Are you willing to endure the training in order to fly?" Megatron questioned. He stepped out of his quarters and towered over Jetfire. "I will NOT be accepting flightless soldiers unless they're grounders."

"And I see no evidence of _wheels_ on you either."

Jetfire dared to look up at the Lord of the Decepticons. Tall, dark, and dangerous . . .

It was do or die.

**O*O*O**

_Several days later . . ._

Much to Megatron's surprise, he saw no hint of fear behind the youngling's optics as the much larger mech approached Jetfire with the Decepticon brand.

For the past several solar cycles, Jetfire had been put through several grueling training tasks. Fighting was prevalent among the tasks the youngling had been put through.

He also learned how to fly by himself in record time. For one that never left the ground before, Jetfire learned rather quickly when he was pushed off a high building.

"And now with this," the lord of the Decepticons declared as he stood over the youngling. "You are one of my many _loyal_ soldiers."

The roar of pain that came out of Jetfire was expected. Once Megatron saw the few stray tears that trickled down the youngling's eyes however, the mech snarled with hostility.

_SMACK!_

Jetfire recoiled from the backhand Megatron gave him. Behind the youngling, a few Seeker guards winced.

"The first rule of being with the Decepticons: _never _show your weakness among us. UNDERSTAND?!" the last word was thundered out of the great Cybertronian.

Jetfire obediently bowed his helm.

"Yes, my Lord."

* * *

**A/N: Phew! Barely made it into the one month time-slot!**

**Opinions****, predictions or comments are welcome!**


	6. Brief Moments

**A/N: This is going to be a bit different in the way I usually write these things . . . after all, this is going to be a bit on how our characters came to meet one another, etc.**

**So, not just the twins for this one: it'll be for several others!**

_Fox2314 and Layra: **Thank you for your reviews, and glad you two like this story! Here's the update you two (and everyone else) have been waiting for!**_

* * *

_Loading dock . . ._

Wheeljack tried to see past the gates that barred the Autobots back from the ones that were heading to the front lines. The engineer could barely make out the blue jet as he marched to the Delta-Class transport. Soon, Jetstorm would be with the others going through the Space Bridge.

This would be his first time seeing action out in the field. The elder mech exhaled shakily. It would be very life-changing. Although Wheeljack knew it was wishful thinking that Jetstorm would be safe . . .

Runners would be the delivery-bots that would shuttle messages, ammunition and/or energon rations around the area. However, Runners were often the most targeted from Decepticons, who would ambush them from above and then take whatever the Runner was carrying.

And oftentimes they'd be killed. Wheeljack shuddered that the thought.

Soon, the engines of the space-craft began to rumble online. "Bye! So long!" Others around him began to shout. Wheeljack craned his neck to see the small transport ship lift off, and quickly make a bee-line to the Space Bridge's blue orb.

Once it passed through, the crowd disbursed, quickly getting back to their stations. Soon, Wheeljack was the only one. He stood in the same spot for what seemed like ages, helm tilted toward the Space Bridge.

'Primus, let him be safe,' the engineer prayed.

* * *

_Fortress Maximus: two hours later . . ._

Sari knew better than to walk in the middle of the aisle. A majority of the Autobots was still wary of her and usually kept to themselves.

Optimus, Bulkhead, Ratchet and Bumblebee already went off to do their time on the front lines. Jetstorm included. To be frank, Sari had never thought she'd see Wheeljack so darn worried.

Back on Earth, Bumblebee would rattle on and on that the engineer never seemed to have an off day. The only time he had an off day was when it seemed to involve the blue jet.

Apparently today had to be the first off day Wheeljack had in a long time. After he returned from the loading dock, the engineer became recluse and hadn't come out of his habitation suite ever since.

That was where she was headed, to see what was going on.

It takes her another half an hour to find Wheeljack's room, for it was in a tucked away corner of Fortress Maximus. The young Sumdac slammed her fist against the door. The teen hoped the engineer would hear the sound. Sari's legs ached from the long trek.

The human backed up as the entrance slid away. Wheeljack stood just behind the door frame as she scanned his surroundings.

"Down here!" Sari called.

The engineer looked down in surprise. "Wasn't expecting you," Wheeljack explained. He stepped aside. "Come in." Sari walked into Wheeljack's quarters, and was shocked to see how dusty and sparse it was. The lone berth in the middle of the room and a dinky silver safe was pretty much the only pieces of furniture found in the room

"I know," the Autobot said as Sari turned to look at him. "I tend to spend more time in my lab than in my room."

"Wow . . . so wait, why are you here then?" Sari asked him as she turned toward the engineer.

"I'm here, trying to find some things of mine," Wheeljack replied. He gestured to the safe. "I've been busy trying to remember what the eight number combination was."

"Have you tried 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8?"

"Been there, done that." Sari walked up to the safe and craned her neck up to try and see the keypad of the container. She rattled off several suggestions to Wheeljack:

"Could it be numbers of your first house?"

"Tried it."

"Old comm-number?"

"No dice, as you humans say." Sari continued to rattle off ideas of what the password could be. The engineer however seemed to have gone through all of them.

"Ugh, are you always scatter-brained?" Sari exhaled exasperatedly. She had situated herself on top of the safe thanks to Wheeljack. The young woman sat cross-legged and propped up her head with her chin resting in the palm of her hand.

"Jetstorm says that I might've graduated the 'University of Scatter-Brains'," Wheeljack humored her.

An idea clicked in Sari's mind. "Hey, try Jetstorm's name, only in numbers."

"Hmm." Wheeljack quickly pinned in the numbers 5-3-8-7-8-6-7-6. And, it popped open.

"By Primus, you are a good luck charm," Wheeljack murmured.

"What was that?" Sari asked as she looked up at the engineer.

"Nothing, nothing," the mech replied. 'I ought to have more filters on me,' Wheeljack thought to himself.

Several hours before Bumblebee had shipped off with his team and Jetstorm, the scout made a request to him.

"Keep Sari safe, ok? Her dad too."

"Well, yeah, why wouldn't I?" Wheeljack responded in kind.

"Sari's special," Bumblebee explained cryptically.

Wheeljack smiled at the memory behind his face-mask. As he bent down to grab various data-pads from within the safe, he noticed Sari eyeing him.

"Say, want to watch these with me?"

**O*O*O**

Sari didn't expect to see holograms and holo-vids of a sparkling Jetstorm on those data-pads.

"He first came here with several burns on his arms and legs. He was also from Neutral Territory, but it was decimated by both Autobots and Decepticons alike," Wheeljack explained as he flipped through a few of the holo-scans. The data-pad Wheeljack held in his lap was slightly rusted and the white coating on the top of it had yellowed. Sari watched in rapt amazement as Wheeljack pulled up several little holo-scans.

Jetstorm didn't have his visor then. His amber optics were huge and innocent. The sparkling was situated in front of a large energon cube, with an arm inside the container, and the rest of him was coated in pink energon.

"Yeah . . . that one was Jazz's fault," Wheeljack commented. Sari couldn't help but burst into laughter.

As Sari saw more and more pictures, she witnessed Jetstorm getting to know other sparklings around his age.

"This is from a security camera when they were first transported here," Wheeljack murmured. There was sadness in his voice. "From the Moon Bases."

"Why the Moon Bases?" Sari questioned. "Aren't they areas mostly like . . . farmland to you guys? Energon farms?"

"Who told you that?"

"Bulkhead did. He's from an energon farm," the teenager replied. She raised an eyebrow and soon came to a conclusion.

"Was he in one of the farms that got attacked?" Wheeljack nodded.

"Watch," the engineer stated quietly. He played the clip.

It was inside a transport ship. All of them were sparklings. Three were recognizable: Bulkhead, Ironhide and Wasp. On the lower left of the screen had an odd set of time stamps, but from the looks of how tired the small ones were it was very early in the morning or late at night.

Sari felt her heart ache as she realized poor Bulkhead was crying. The poor thing, even in his young age, was the biggest of the lot. He had somehow jammed himself into a corner, on the upper right of the view from the camera. The poor mech rocked back and forth, holding his knees to his chest. There was no audio, but the teenager could tell that he was crying.

"Poor things," she whispered. Wheeljack nodded in agreement.

Sari soon turned her attention to Ironhide and Wasp. There wasn't a very good view on their faces, but the fact that they were huddled together made Sari feel sympathy for them. She then noticed something in Wasp's arms.

"Wait, pause," the human said. Wheeljack stopped the video as moment as she stood up and pointed. There was a small bundle wrapped in Wasp's arms. "Is that who I think it is?" Familiar, yellow horns stuck out at the top of the blanket Wasp grasped tightly in his arms.

"Yeah, that who you think it is."

"But, Wasp and Bee aren't-" Sari commented but Wheeljack interjected, "They were from one of the outer colonies that had been near the Moon Bases," Wheeljack sighed. He shook his helm. "Second to the first Youngling Center massacres from centuries ago, it was one of the most horrific known that directly affected the kids in Cybertronian history."

Wheeljack fast-forwarded the video and soon the bunch of sparklings were ushered out of the transport ship they were on. Sari saw Optimus, Jazz, Ratchet, Prowl, and a few other Cybertronians helping out in getting the younger generation out of their spots.

"Whoa," she whispered. Soon, Wheeljack himself showed up on the scene, with Jetstorm in tow. She was somewhat surprised as Jetstorm had teeter-tottered his way up to Wasp and looked at him with sympathy in his expression.

"We were going to assign them to different rooms," Wheeljack explained. "But Jetstorm had led them to what would be known as the nursery and well, its history from there." Then a question that nagged at him resurfaced in his mind.

"Sari, why didn't you remain on Earth?" Wheeljack asked. "You were in an escape pod." Sari's expression darkened considerably. The engineer looked on in shock to see something in her eyes that he was getting far too familiar with his own associates.

"Let's just say . . . my dad and I tried to escape one war that got too close to home, and then we landed in another one," she murmured.

* * *

_One month later, the Cyber-Ninja Dojo . . ._

"Young one, when one is supposed to be doing his or her chores, they should have their heads out of the clouds," Yoketron spoke to a femme.

The Autobot flier jumped and turned to face the Cyber-Ninja master. She stammered, "Oh, my apologies, Master. I didn't mean to shirk my duties!"

"Calm down, I wasn't reprimanding you," Yoketron assured her. He had a slight frown when he asked, "Why are you so jumpy? Are the others still-?"

"No," she said as she briskly started to sweep again. Her grip tightened on the handle of the broom. "I passed by one of my old professors when I went out to get some energon rations for everyone, and do you know what he said?" Yoketron remained silent.

"H-he said, 'there goes the glitch of a Decepticon-sympathizer'." Tempest gritted her denta and let out a exasperated sigh.

"Nothing can be done about the past," Yoketron said to her.

"I took an oath, Sensei," Tempest sighed. She sat on the bench next to her and leaned on the handle of the broom. "An oath as an upcoming, well, once upcoming, medic, to heal others, no matter _whom _or what they were. That included factions. I just didn't realize helping out a wrongly beaten Decepticon at Maccadam's-"

"Would cost you your scholarship to Protihex Medical Mechanical, as well as your ability to reapply to get your field medic license in the future," Yoketron completed for her. He could see the agony in her optics.

"I was one orbital cycle away, Master Yoketron, _one orbital cycle_ from getting it," Tempest enunciated regretfully. She felt the burn of lubricants behind her optics, but managed to will them not to fall.

Quickly, she stood up and curtly bowed to the aged Cyber-Ninja in front of her. "I-I will return to my duties promptly, Master," the ex-medical student exhaled.

"Take your time, Tempest, but after you sweep the halls, I want you in the meditation hall. I'll discuss with you further on other matters." She deeply bowed, and soon Yoketron left her to her own devices.

Once Yoketron was gone, the femme carefully stood upright again. She glanced about warily as a servo darted into her sub-space and took out a small holo-capture slide. Tempest held it up to her optics, and the face of Jetstorm shows up in rectangle.

"If you only knew how I feel," she sighed. She gingerly placed the device back into her sub-space and got on with sweeping.

* * *

_Decepticon Med-Bay . . ._

Jetfire gritted his denta as he peeled off the last of the bandages on his neck. He sat in front of one of the few completely intact mirrors in the Decepticon med-bay.

The youngling paled as he saw his reflection. There was an deep gash cut across his face. Hot pink lines sliced across his black neck, which made Jetfire wince. An arm was in a sling, and his right ankle was put into a shoddy brace. He slightly wobbled and gripped the table in front of him.

"Mech, you are lucky to be alive from that Autobot beat down," Hook said brusquely. He tossed aside his tools onto a rusted metal tray. "All the slashes on your body should heal pretty soon, but the one on your face is going to scar."

"Is ok," Jetfire mumbled as he awkwardly touched the scar on his face. The youngling assessed his new paint job. Dark red was coated where his orange scheme once was and blue-black replaced his crème shades.

"And between you and me," Hook gestured at him with a scalpel, the blade covered in bloodied bandages, "you were lucky that femme fixed you up enough before you hauled your aft out of there. Get a name?"

"No," Jetfire exhaled and looked at his pedes. He soon glanced outside to the small window. "But, vishing I did."

* * *

**A/N: Annnnnnnnd end scene! Ouch, so to recap on the Bots' side, Jetstorm heads off into the War for the first time, Wheeljack reveals some old photos and other memorabilia to Sari, and we find out a bit of what happened to Earth when Optimus's team left it, and a femme lost her medical education due to fixing a Decepticon.**

**And on the 'Cons side, Jetfire was pretty banged up, and received a new paint scheme!**

**R & R please and reviews help with the muse!**


	7. Closer and Closer

_Autobot Front-lines . . ._

Jetstorm had to duck into a nearly cover as an explosive screamed overhead. The youngling panted as he gripped the package to his chest. He needed to get it to the Commander of the platoon he ran through.

One of his helm fins had been dinged when he had an unfortunate run-in with a metal bar. No less wielded by a Decepticon that tried to decapitate him. Luckily his reflexes got him out of that jam and-

"INCOMING!" a femme close to him screamed. Jetstorm scrambled after her to dive into the small cavity that had been dug into the side just-

_**SCREEEEEEEEEEEE-KABOOM!**_

Jetstorm covered his helm as the debris from the blast rattled the ground. It threw him off balance and he landed on top of the femme. "Sorry! Sorry!" he exclaimed in response to her as she shoved him off. He soon scrambled to his pedes and made a run for it as more and more shrieking bombs exploded all around him.

After more diving to the energon covered ground as well as having to leap over the corpses of enemy and friend alike, Jetstorm soon made it to the rendezvous point-

The youngling staggered to a halt and quickly found cover behind a lone wall. He tried to keep his intakes as quiet as possible. What awaited him around the corner was a band of Decepticons. And they were lusting for energon, if the dagger to the neck of the mech he was supposed to meet was anything to go by.

Scrap, now what was he going to do?

Jetstorm let out a silent groan and knocked on his helm with his fist. 'Think, think!' Jetstorm quickly assessed his surroundings. He noticed the wall behind him had step-like protrusions, which led toward the mech he was supposed to meet with, just a few feet above the mech's helm. Jetstorm gripped the firearm that was holstered in his hip pocket.

It'll do.

**O*O*O**

"About time you got to me!" Sentinel Prime barked at the youngling. The blue Prime led the way back to his camp. When they got there, Jetstorm gaped at the size of the wall that surrounded it. About twenty Seekers stacked helm to pede would fit the height of it.

It wasn't Fortress Maximus, but it sure was a sight.

"Anyway, kid-hey, you listening?" Jetstorm snapped to attention to the mech. "Good; I am glad that you managed to get the info to me without too much trouble."

"Is trouble none," Jetstorm replied. They passed through the doors without any hitch.

"All right, I'll take this," Sentinel grabbed the tube Jetstorm held and inspected it a moment, "and you can take some supplies for your own before you have to run off again." He turned to the youngling. "One hour of respite; hurry it up and meet me at the commanders' tent." The Prime gestured to the large green tent toward the center of the small fortress.

Jetstorm was soon dismissed and he immediately ran to the comm-center.

It was under a tarp with several rips and holes in a variety of holes. When Jetstorm bumped into one of the supports, some gravel and debris trickled down from an opening and hit his helm. Undeterred, the youngling just swiped the sand-like material off his helm as he got into the short line to get to the comm-stations.

There were about a dozen, each with a time limit of ten cycles per soldier per solar cycle. When it was his turn, Jetstorm dashed to the one that looked the most clean. As he seated himself on the rickety stool, mindful not to fall over, Jetstorm quickly deposited his I.D. slip into the reader and placed his right servo atop a scanner right next to the CPU-which contained several hundred thousand servo-prints of different Autobot soldiers.

Once it was done scanning his servo, Jetstorm immediately punched in the frequency that would lead to-

"-There you are! Been wondering where you got to!-"

"Mister Wheeljack!" Jetstorm happily exclaimed. The two laughed and picked up right where they left off.

"-So, everything got off without a hitch?-" at Jetstorm's nod, the engineer sighed in relief. "But Mr. Wheeljack, knowing me careful, always!" the youngling replied.

"-Ah, I know, it's just . . . I'm not used to you being so far, you know?-" the elder mech admitted.

"Not helpless," the youngling reminded him.

"-Yeah, but to me you'll still be that slightly burned, squabbling little sparkling I've always known-." Jetstorm couldn't help but roll his optics behind his visor, but he knew the scatter-brained mech meant well.

The rest of the allotted time was taken up with mild talk. Jetstorm reported that Optimus's team was stationed near a Space Bridge, and Wheeljack noted the odd behavior Sari was exhibiting.

"-Every time someone tries to ask her about Earth, she makes an excuse and goes away. A lot of the time now she's just stays inside her room with her father,-" Wheeljack noted.

"Weird indeeding," Jetstorm nodded. "Bumblebee saying she vas social . . ."

"-Yeah, and-darn!-" The time limit was beeping for the last ten seconds. "-Talk to me soon!-"

"I am promising!" Jetstorm quickly exclaimed and soon the screen went back to the log-in page. The youngling sighed and looked at the little card eater that spat out his ID. He took it and placed it gingerly into his subspace.

Immediately, his comm-link pinged. It was Sentinel, and Jetstorm dashed to the commander's tent.

* * *

_Decepticon Borders . . ._

"You idiot! Why didn't you aim for the helm?!" Jetfire turned around to look square into his comrade's optics.

"At least me hit him, unlike you Mr. Miss-A-Lot," the youngling retorted. The others in his team laughed uproariously as the mech in front of Jetfire clenched his servo into a fist.

_THWACK!_

The others winced as the butt of the rifle slammed upside Jetfire's helm. The youngling fell to the floor and held back a yelp as the older mech slammed his pede atop his fingers.

"Talk to a higher ranked comrade in that way again, and you'll get more than the butt of my rifle," his engine revved menacingly to emphasize his point. "And case in point: I'm still wondering how you got into the Decepticon Forces with such a slim body!" Jetfire couldn't help the wave of disgust go over him as the comrade of his did a lewd once over of Jetfire's chassis, topped with a lick of his lips.

"Frankly, I think with that body type, you'd be better suited in-"

"All right, enough!" now the tormentor backed off as the leader of the group stepped in. He was tall, dark armored and had a skull-like face that freaked out everyone in the group.

The alpha mech stalked to the tormentor and kicked him in the stomach. "Quit thinking with your rod, numb-node. The next time you get a hankering for action you head over to the Night Femmes." To add salt to the wound, he added, "Oh wait, I forget, you have a certain problem. Going soft all the time, eh?"

The downed mech didn't say a thing.

"Now!" barked the skull-headed mech, which made everyone quickly stand at attention. "Get back to your stations, or so Unicron help me, I'll kick you back to Basic Training!"

Jetfire pushed himself up with his good servo and tried not to wince as he went over to the medic to check it out.

**O*O*O**

"Nothing worse for wear," the medic reassured him. Jetfire poked at the bandages that covered his servo and said nothing. "So, how's your side project going along?"

Jetfire looked up at the grounder. "Is . . . ok."

He quirked up an optic ridge. "You are starting to go border-line obsessed with her. And you don't even know her! Why the big deal?"

"Me tell already: my life she saves," Jetfire retorted.

"Yeah, and she's probably in the stockade for treason! You know Autobots don't like traitors as much as Megatron hates Starscream."

"Make me vonder vhy Glorious Leader not offing," Jetfire nodded. "But, she not." The medic with no proper designation stared at the youngling as he unsub-spaced several data-pads. Jetfire tapped upon the screens and it reveals scores of photos on the medic, all within Iacon.

"You're stalking her!" the medic accused.

"Pfft, no!" Jetfire snorted. "Me have friend in there. Always go to Maccadam's and seeing her."

"Wait, as in, he's doing recon on her for you?"

"Sure, if putting way that." The medic shook his helm. "Can question me ask?"

"Go ahead."

"Vhy no name?" Jetfire questioned. "Captain says yous been here longer than him."

"Long story short, I don't remember who I am," the medic replied. "I got hit by a missile that eradicated the rest of my old team." Jetfire stared at him in awe. "I am not lying. When I came too, I couldn't recognize anyone. The only things my processor can remember are my medical skills." He let out a bitter laugh.

"Anyway, the others call me Doc. Why don't you?" Jetfire shrugged and his chronometer binged.

"Got a date with your informant?" At the youngling's nod, the medic shooed him off.

"Be careful!" Doc shouted after him. The elder mech got a backward wave as Jetfire hopped from rooftop to rooftop, heading toward Iacon.

* * *

_Iacon Border Patrol one hour later . . ._

"Sir!"

"What is it?"

"We have an incoming Decepticon signal!" That got the captain's attention. "Where?" He sidled up next to his apprentice to check out the lone signature.

"Just a click outside of Iacon."

"Odd . . ." the captain got his comm-link on and said into it, "This is Captain Strider here, anyone within this area? We have a lone Decepticon signal incoming."

_"-We got an incoming convoy from the Space Bridge, sir,-"_ a traffic patrolman replied. _"-Do you want me to divert a team to seek out the signal?-"_

"Do it. We got a small and of younglings being herded out to the outer colonies right now. And do it quick."

"Yes sir."

With the crackle of the comm-link going offline, the captain sighed. _Just another cycle . . ._

Or was it?

* * *

**A/N: I am so sorry for the delay! Argh, muses weren't cooperating with what has been going on in RL lately, so apologies again.**

**IN ADDITION: it's almost August.**

**I literally have a month and two days before school starts up again. So, that means I may or may not have an update ready by then, and from there, the updates shall grow infrequent due to schoolwork.**

**R&R please!**


	8. Too Close to Realize It

**A/N: Thank you Layra and Dark Jetfire for your reviews for the previous chapters. And I _WELCOME_ new readers, Dreamer2499 and Autobot Slipstream. :D**

**And here folks, is what you've been waiting for!**

***drum roll and curtain rises***

* * *

_Autobot Team Eta-5, a solar cycle out from Iacon . . ._

"Hey Jetstorm, you ok?" asked one of the mechs in front of the platoon. To be honest, the blue jet had staggered behind the group of seven for quite a while. Eta-5 was the team that headed toward Fortress Maximus. Their mission was to to refuel on supplies and to help bodyguard very small younglings that had to get out of Iacon.

Jetstorm coughed and shook his helm. "Not me minding."

"Kid, are you serious? You look like you're about to pass out!" the youngling next to him said. The mech soon took Jetstorm's arm and wrapped it around his own shoulders to help support the nauseated mech.

"Hey, did you drink any energon that had a greenish or blueish color to it?" the leader asked.

"No."

"Run into rusty walls or equipment? Or even accidentally cut yourself on one of the two?"

"No."

"Um, this might be stretching it, but have you bunked with a mech or femme and-"

"PRIMUS, _NO!_"

"That answers that one," a femme chuckled. She balked when Jetstorm doubled over and dry heaved.

"Hey, medic!" the femme called. "We got one that's about to lose it!" Eta Team's medic jogged up next to Jetstorm from the rear. With a quick look over, he looked grim.

"We need to stop soon," he declared to the leader. The managed to find cover behind some partial remains of a building a few miles later. They set up camp for the night-cycle.

"You don't look so good kid," the medic murmured as he took Jetstorm's temperature. "Yeow!" he exclaimed.

"Bad how?" Jetstorm slurred. His vision was made him see three of everything.

"Considering your 'normal' chassis temp is a bit lower than the rest of us . . . it's pretty high." The medic reached into his sub-space and pulled out an unused cooling-pack. He squeezed it in his servo before an audible crack was heard. The lukewarm bag soon became cold. The field medic placed it atop of Jetstorm's forehead.

"Ah," the youngling sighed in relief. He made a move to remove his visor, but one of the others stopped him.

"Hey, get some shut-eye," the femme whispered. Jetstorm was happy to oblige.

**O*O*O**

"What do you mean something is going on with his spark?" the captain of Eta team asked. His medic kept going over the scans he did over Jetstorm's spark-chamber.

"Well, look," the medic answered. At the scan he took, it showed the outlines of Jetstorm's spark. However, it fluctuated constantly. "Call me crazy, but I think it's trying to jump out . . ."

"Ok, that makes no sense," the captain admitted. "What do you mean his spark is trying to _jump out?_ That makes absolutely no sense!" The medic shrugged in response.

* * *

_Hidden behind some rubble . . . _

Jetfire squinted to see what was going on. He never predicted that an Autobot team would be here. He exhaled quietly as he did a head count. Eight of them.

Hmm. The one with the bag on his helm didn't look so hot. Especially with the pained look on his face-plates and gritted denta. That meant one was down, but how was he going to get around the rest of them? The Decepticon looked to the ground around him. He noticed the loose dirt and gravel.

He smiled as he grabbed a servoful. Carefully, he chucked one small rock toward the two scouts. They stood at attention when Jetfire flicked another at them, this time a little ways away. One of the scouts began to move out to investigate. The other remained close to the medic and his patient.

They were both wary.

Taking a chance, Jetfire threw the rest of the rocks in his servo to his right. The youngling quickly ducked down and held his breath. The sound of pedes that headed toward the pebbles soon grew faint.

The youngling took a chance. Jetfire popped up and shifted into his alt-mode.

"HEY! THERE HE IS!" Jetfire winced as some blasters singed one of his wings. He was shocked as he lost altitude. The Decepticon did a quick scan over himself and balked as he realized where he had been hit.

Right in one of the thrusters.

"Ah!" Jetfire cried out as he crashed into the ground. He's forced to transform into bi-pedal mode. Blindly, the youngling ran away. Jetfire heard a commotion arise from the camp behind him. Unfortunately, he chanced a look back.

_FWOOT-FWOOT-FWOOT-FWOOT-_

_CLANK-CLACK!_

"AH!" Jetfire's legs are entangled by two bolas. He fell face-first to the ground. The young mech coughed and struggled to inch-worm away. He yelped as he's roughly lifted up by his scruff bar.

"Where the Pit do you think you're going?" one of the Autobots growled at him.

Oh Pit, this was going from bad to worse.

* * *

_Several hours later . . ._

"We got an ill comrade here-!" Wheeljack gaped as he saw the state Jetstorm was in. The youngling's face-plates looked as green as Bulkhead's paint. He curled in on himself on the stretcher. The engineer knew he'd heave into a waste basket soon.

"Hey! Hey, hey!" Wheeljack beckoned the medic and his assistant over to an open room. At the sound of his voice, Jetstorm nauseatingly looked up at him. Once he's put into a berth and the medic vacated to get his supplies.

Wheeljack leaped into the chair next to the youngling. "Hey, you ok?" the engineer placed a cool servo over Jetstorm's hot forehead. The youngling tried to reply, but his speech was slurred and faint. "What happened to you?"

"Sp . . ." Jetstorm struggled to string the word the word coherently. "Sp-sp . . . ark . . ." Wheeljack gaped at the youngling as the latter rapped his knuckles upon his chest-plates.

"What, it hurts?" Wheeljack asked. He was shocked. Was there something corrupting the function of the Autobot's spark? If so, Jetstorm's mortality would quickly go down the gutter . . .

Outside, the elder mech heard a boisterous racket arise. He listened closely and heard, "Stand aside! Stand aside! We got a 'Con here!" Many Autobots that were nearby start to cat-call and insult the Decepticon.

"Stupid 'Con!"

"You have a one way ticket to the stockades!"

"No good, senseless fragger!"

"Scrap-head!"

"Leech!"

Wheeljack watched Jetstorm turn his helm toward the door. At the youngling's silent insistence, the engineer got up to take a closer look. Two huge mechs flanked the side of a rather skinny Decepticon. The said 'Con was in deactivated stasis-cuffs, but the huge soldiers had a good grip on his upper arms. As soon as the Decepticon passed him by, the prisoner turned to look at him.

What struck Wheeljack odd were the enemy's optic color. It was amber. And shape of it was familiar. No, it couldn't be . . .

Wheeljack winced as Jetstorm shot up and then doubled over the waste bucket next to him. The elder mech quickly went to take off Jetstorm's visor. It unfortunately had some unprocessed energon backlash at it from the bucket. As Jetstorm blearily looked up at him, light bulb effect went off in Wheeljack's mind.

"Are you sure?" he asked the youngling. "Because if you're wrong, what I am about to do may land me in _**huge**_ trouble. So HUGE not even Ratchet's anger at me when I blow up will be nothing in comparison!"

"All . . . for science, eh?" Jetstorm stated quietly. At those words Wheeljack shot out of the room like a sparrow. The last thing Jetstorm heard before he blacked out was the engineer.

* * *

_Seconds later . . ._

"STOP! HOLD IT! DON'T PUT HIM IN A CELL!" Jetfire stared as a strange mech burst out of a room. He walked roughly five paces behind the mechs that tightly held the youngling.

"What-"

"Tell Magnus I believe this prisoner is connected to Project Separated! Take him to an interrogation room!" Wheeljack interrupted as he tried to keep up with the soldiers. Goodness their strides were long. "And have a medic on stand-by, I might need to crack open his chest!"

The two soldiers halted a moment. Jetfire stared at the mech, and his spark pulse skyrocketed. It doubled its normal pace as the soldiers adhered to the strange mech's orders.

Once he was thrown quiet literally into an interrogation room, Jetfire had one thought that raced through his processor.

Was this the end for him?

* * *

**A/N: Sorry to leave it at a cliff-hanger thing, but I want you all to stick around to read it! XD**

**Ok, next in order of business: I have roughly a little more than a week before school starts. This shall be the last chapter for a while, but I'll update when time and muses let me!**

**Read and review please, it helps!**


End file.
